Van Helsing: Curse of the Mummy
by NeoShinigamiSama
Summary: Book 2 of 3. Sent to Egypt with a mission to stop the undead priest Imhotep, Gabriel Van Helsing must face not only the mummy, but the humans who would worship him, and the unyielding force known as the Scorpion King. Reviews are welcomed
1. Prelude

**_Rome, Italy _**

Year 1888 

Two black stallions galloped into the large open square of the Piazza San Pletro, now slowing as their riders pulled on the reigns. One of them was a man with dirty blonde hair, his suit dark brown and loose fit. It was torn in some places, showing signs of the fight he and his companion had been through recently. 

The other was a man dressed in black, with a Duster overcoat draped on his body and a black hat upon his head. There was a friar waiting for them at the Basilica of Saint Peter, who took their horses as they dismounted. The man in black nodded to the friar, then headed up the stairs into the basilica, his companion following close behind. He was a bit tired now, for it had been a long ride from the far side of Walachia, but he was very pleased right now. 

Standing there, waiting before the ornate confessional inside the church, was the person they sought. He was leaning on a cane, raised a hand to brush back his gray hair that still has some spots of brown in it. He could see there was a change in the eyes of the man in black; they were filled with knowledge, a sense of completion. 

"I assume," he began, "that you know, Gabriel." 

The man came to a halt before Professor Van Helsing. "And I know you knew the whole time," he replied. For a moment, his left hand tightened into a fist, as if he were going to strike the professor for not telling him before. But then, he smiled and brought his arms around to hug the professor. "And you were right to not tell me." 

As they pulled away from each other, Gabriel Van Helsing smiled to his adoptive father. "It was a test of faith," he said. "How much I could trust in myself, believe and finally not fear anything on my own." 

"And you were rewarded with your memories," Abraham stated. He smiled, gesturing to the confessional and leading the way in. Down the stairs they went, reaching the armory. It was then that Professor Van Helsing led Gabriel and Carl to Jinette's office deep within the Templar's cavern. "In memory lies power, and thus is the power of angels." 

As he opened the door, Professor Van Helsing looked to Jinette, who was sitting there, reading something. "Our Archangel returns," he said. The cardinal looked at Abraham in confusion, then, when he saw Van Helsing, raised a brow. 

"You completed your mission, then?" 

"That, and more," Gabriel replied. He looked at the cardinal. It was clear he hadn't known the truth. So, he pulled off his coat and showed the wings that appeared on his back. Black wings, like those of a raven, but thick and full. Jinette gasped in shock, falling out of his seat and to the ground, where he stared with amazement. "I trust that you know what I am now." 

He gapped, mouth hanging open while he could not find the words to express what he was feeling. Standing before him was an angel; an archangel. This whole time, for seven years, they had been holding the service of one of Heaven's warriors, and never known at all what stood in their midst. 

Wait. The professor had known. He always was the one who restored Van Helsing's confidence, always reminded him of his greater purpose. He had to have known the whole time. Judging from the look of calm on Abraham's face, it was true; he'd known all along. 

"Why did you not inform me?" the cardinal said while rising to his feet. "Professor Van Helsing, withholding such information from us was a foolish thing!" 

He waved his hand. "Please," he replied. "If I had told you, of all people, you would have harbored no doubts about using Gabriel as much as possible." There was a wry smile there on Abraham's lips. "Plus, I thought it best if as few people as possible knew the truth about him. He had to learn on his own, recover his power and memories by his own virtue to prove his faith. And he has done so." 

The cardinal couldn't speak for a few more moments. He looked to Gabriel, still in utter surprise over it all, then finally began breathing normally again. "This is indeed a great turn of events. Now that you remember everything-" 

"I don't remember _everything,_" Gabriel said. He let his wings molt away, feathers falling to the ground while he pulled his coat back on. "I know who and what I am, but there are still things I cannot recall; namely, why I was bound here on Earth." 

He looked to the professor, hoping that he held the answers still, but now Abraham shook his head. "I'm afraid I cannot answer that question," he said. "The reason I knew of what you are is because I was the one who found you seven years ago, with your wings still upon your back." He smiled, letting Gabriel know that he understood. "But, I do not doubt that one day, you will remember why you were cast here to Earth. Until then, I hope you will continue your duty with us." 

Gabriel slowly nodded, but turned to Jinette. There was one other thing to handle at the moment. "I suggest you not try taking advantage of our new knowledge," he snapped quickly. "I may be immortal and unkillable, but I'm not invulnerable. I need to rest, like any man, because my powers have not fully returned." He paused, glanced to Carl, then saw a look of agreement. He knew what Van Helsing was about to now demand. "And I would like some damn vacation time." 


	2. Prologue

_**Hamunaptra, Egypt **_

Year 1290 BC 

The screams could be heard as two men walked down the stairs into the underground preparation chamber. One of them, a tall man with startling stormy blue eyes and light brown hair, looked down on the scene that lay before them. Over a dozen men were being prepared for mummification, except for one major detail; they were still alive. 

"Disgusting methods," his companions said as they halted for a moment. He was looking at the display of torture disdainfully. "I don't know why you brought me here, Gabriel." 

The first man glanced to his companion, and a pair of black wings on his back ruffled slightly. "To enforce their judgements," he said, now continuing down the stairs and keeping his gaze on what was being enacted before them. "Do you know what these men, commanded by their leader, were attempting to do?" 

The other man sighed, his white wings shifting while he watched. Truly, he sometimes regretted certain aspects of his position, though at times like these, he regretted the position of his companion. "I know all about the Egyptians and their study of necromancy," he stated, eyes still drawn to the horrible punishments being inflicted. "But why in the Creator's name must we be here? Surely we have better things to do." 

With a sharp glare, the black-winged man silenced his fellow divine being. "You are the Angel of Death, Sariel," he said. "As such, it is your duty to uphold their laws of punishments into the next life." 

Again, he sighed. Sariel knew the speech and reasons well, but still, he never could understand why Gabriel, who was not just any angel, but one of the Archangels, could have so much passion for upholding the judgements of the mortal world as well as those of Heaven. "You know that the Creator doesn't like it when we enforce the edicts of lesser deities, Gabriel. It's bad enough that man's beliefs are strong enough to bring those beings into existence, it doesn't help that we-" 

"Imhotep has broken our laws as well," Gabriel snapped. He looked to where one man was singled out, a group of the large muscular guards cutting out his tongue. "He defies the laws of death, attempting to bring back one from the dark underworld of their faith." 

"And as such, he is subject to the law of God," Sariel finished. His tone indicated that he had well heard similar lectures many times. "Yes, I know...but why _enforce_ the Hom-dai? Doing so will ensure that he defies death." 

The Archangel patted his fellow divinity on the shoulder. Sariel didn't understand that these orders came form the highest echelons of Heaven. All he needed to know was that he was to enforce the law of the Egyptians, to damn the man named Imhotep to undeath. "I recall you made the same complaint about Cain." 

Sariel groaned. Leave it to Gabriel to bring _that_ subject up. "Again, I still wonder about that. Raziel's suggestion on the matter was bad enough, but then you had to give the idea of making him wander the Earth for all eternity." With a snort, the Angel of Death glanced toward where Imhotep was now being wrapped in bandages. It was then, if he could, he would have paled in disgust. "Oh no," he whispered. "They're using _scarabs._" 

He glanced over, noting as one of the guards, with the head of Anubis as a helmet over his own, walked over to the coffin and poured a swarm of scarab beetles onto Imhotep as he struggled. "For the Angel of Death," he muttered, "you have a rather weak constitution." 

"I only move them along most of the time, not watch how they died," Sariel replied. "That's your job, oh Archangel of Judgement, Justice, and _causing_ a lot of death." 

"I do my job a lot more reliably than Michael," came the witty retort from the Archangel. "Maybe if he would stop his 'holier than thou' attitude around me, his own equal, and not act like doing his duty is beneath him, I wouldn't be working so hard." 

His eyes watched as the guards carried the now locked coffin to a large stone outer sarcophagus and locked it inside. From there, they lowered the sarcophagus into a deep pit at the base of a statue of Anubis, and buried it under the sand. Words were said, curses laid upon the former priest of Seti, to ensure his eternal punishment. 

"Is that why you were laughing so hard at Sodom and Gomorrah?" 

Well, if Sariel wanted to call him on that one... "First off," Gabriel replied, "I wasn't laughing that badly, though I did get a chuckle out of it. Second, you can't tell me those people didn't have it coming." 

The angel tilted his head in contemplation, then conceded the point. "True, but you didn't have to turn that woman to salt!" 

"You think that was me?" the Archangel said, a bit confused. "Granted, after telling those people five times 'don't look back', I would have thought they got the hint, but then she went and looked back at the city." He paused a moment. "And the salt thing was _Michael's_ doing, I was just going to burn her eyes out so she learned her lesson." With a grunt, Gabriel headed over to the statue, gesturing for Sariel to follow him while the guards moved to finish up with the other prisoners. "You know your job," he said. "Make sure it sticks." 

Sariel groaned, but nodded and spread his wings out, causing a fiery-red light to burn down through the sands over the sarcophagus. "As your people sentence you in death, so shall it be," he said, his words causing a wind to blow through the chamber. "You shall be undead, bound to the laws of your gods, and the curse of the living who have judged you." 

The light faded, and for a moment, there was silence. But then, a horrible moan could be heard, like a muffle scream, and just as quickly, it was gone. Sariel shook his head as he began to depart, ruffling his wings and transforming into white light. It was then he noticed that the Archangel was not making his own departure. "Gabriel?" 

"I'll be along in a moment," he said to the angel. "I have something first I need to attend to." 

Sariel vanished, and Gabriel looked down on Imhotep's grave. He then looked up at the face of Anubis, his eyes shining while they glanced over the statue. "And so," he intoned, "you will also be bound to uphold the laws of all things they place on you, Imhotep. Let us hope that you do not face me should you rise as the undead." 

- 

_**Three thousand years later, **_

1923 AD 

The shouting of orders and sounds of men running to their posts filled the air in the ruins of what was once the city of the dead. Now, a crumbling shadow of its former self, Hamunaptra was inhabited by dozens of men who wore the uniforms of the French Foreign Legion. Taking their places at the walls, they readied their rifles, while approaching the city was a massive army of horse-mounted men carrying their own rifles and scimitars. 

The commanding officer of the garrison looked out at the oncoming force. There was no way they could fight this horde and hope to survive, much less _win_. He nervously glanced at the backs of his men, then, throwing down his sword, turned his horse around and fled into the city. 

A pair of men at the front wall looked back as the officer fled. One of them was dressed in the tan browns of a junior officer, though he lacked the hat. Brown hair and blue eyes, he was definitely one that stood out in this unit; he was the only American. As he looked to his companion, the smaller man gave a weak smile. 

"You just got promoted." 

With a grunt, the brunette man looked back toward the oncoming army, steadying his aim. "_Prenez vos positions!_" he cried out, trying to hold the ranks. Most of his men were bound to be ready for retreat, but where would they go, into the city? That was almost certainly a death trap. "You're with me on this one, right?" he asked of his companion. 

A shaky nod. "Oh yes," the smaller man replied. "Your strength gives me strength." He gulped, watching as their enemy continued toward them, then stumbled back and threw down his gun while running after his former commanding officer. "Wait for me!" he screamed. 

The American sighed and shook his head in disappointment. "Damn you, Beni," he muttered, but then resumed his new role as senior officer of the garrison. "Steady!" he cried to his troops. "Steady!" 

The horsemen were barely in range, but it would not be wise to risk it yet. "Steady!" he ordered again, and then, finally gave the command. "Fire!" 

The loud reports of the rifles thundered through the air, bullets screaming forward and hitting their targets. The entire first line of the oncoming army fell, but it left precious little time for the defending side as the enemy force continued toward them. They quickly pulled the bolt action as fast as possible, expelling the used shells while loading fresh ones. Another volley was fired, with the same result, but for every man they shot down, two more seemed to ride forth in his place. 

Gunshots now fired from the enemy, hitting their targets both on the ground level and on the higher ramparts of the city walls. The American grunted and cocked his rifle, firing before he began to back away. The Tuaregs were persistent, he had to give them that. But save that one point, he couldn't find much right now that made him any less likely to shoot them. After all, his life and the lives of his men versus theirs made a pretty solid argument. 

His gun was empty. "Fine time to need a reload," he muttered. It was a powerful weapon, but the Springfield M1903 was definitely on the short end when it came to how many shots it could hold, especially when up against this many foes. He managed to load in a bullet, then locked the action and raised the gun to shoot one of the Tuaregs off his horse. Another delay allowed him to load it again and make his shot, but the American wasn't so lucky after that. He growled and swung his rifle up like a club, slamming the stock into an oncoming rider's head. 

Just as he was about to make another load, he saw one of the downed riders get up, and used his rifle as a club once more. Now, it was pointless to try locking more shells in. He threw the rifle aside and drew out a pair of revolvers that were tucked into his belt. Several shots rang out while he backed away up the rampway into the city, and as the guns ran out of ammunition, he tossed them and pulled another pair of guns from the back of his belt, these a set of automatics. 

Shot after shot, he struck his targets, but they were far too many. With a grunt, the American turned and ran into the city, jumping over a fallen pillar just in time to see Beni running for an open doorway of one of the buildings. "Run, Beni!" he cried. "Get inside!" 

The Hungarian was only too happy to comply. He ran through the doorway and began pushing the heavy stone door shut. The American, however, was not very happy at his friend's actions. "Don't you close that door!" he screamed, but he was too late as Beni pushed the door shut, trapping him outside. 

He groaned, then ran just before a pair of shots hit where he had been standing. About three or four of the riders were chasing after him, and he leapt up over a pillar, crashing to the sand and dropping his guns. The American reached to grab one of them, but was forced to abandon that idea when a trio of shots impacted on the ground only inches from his hand. 

Now, he was sprinting through the ruins, halting at one turn as he saw another group of Tuareg riders approach, and taking off again until he was caught at the base of a large sand-buried statue. Turning, he saw the two groups combining, now aiming their guns at him. _Nice life while it lasted,_ he thought, closing his eyes and bracing himself for the pain. 

The shots never came. Instead, he heard the horses whining, and then, opening his eyes, he could see that the Tuaregs were gone. Had he done something? The nomads certainly weren't known for their mercy toward enemies, so why had he been spared? 

No, it wasn't him. It was something _behind_ him. Turning around, the American looked up at the head of the statue. It was weathered, with part of the right ear on top broken away by time, but it looked like this thing had been designed with the head of a jackal. It was Anubis, the old Egyptian God of the Underworld. 

There was a faint whisper, and it sounded like it was coming from under the sand. Something was very creepy about this place now, more so than it had been before. He backed away from the statue, then turned to see sand rising up in waves. One wave flew into him, causing him to jump back, and scrambling as fast as he could away from the statue, the American turned to see a mount of sand that sunk down into the pattern of a face. And then, there was a low and crashing roar. 

He ran as fast as he could. Looking around, he could see that the Tuaregs had as well fled the city. All the better if he was going to escape this place. Yet, he could not shake the feeling that he was being watched. As he ran away from the gate of the ruins, he stopped, hearing the distant neighs of a horse. He then turned and looked up onto a nearby bluff, where he could see about a half-dozen horses with riders. More of the Tuaregs? No. If they were, they would be riding down now to kill him. 

But he wasn't in the mood to ask questions either. He ran out into the desert, hoping that by some chance, he might just survive long enough to make it back to civilization. 


	3. Chapter 1

_**Poenari, Walachia **_

Three years later

The ancient crumbling castle was quiet, save for the footsteps of a man dressed in black. His glove clad hands held a pair of custom-built silver automatics, design derived from the Luger P08, but the modifications were very obvious. Longer barrel by half-an-inch, along with heat-sinks at the ends and intricate designs that resembled runes and symbols all over the body of the weapons.

Brown leather boots crunched on the small rocks that had fallen from the walls of the castle. His black Duster overcoat flowed with the moment of his steps with several sections of what appeared to be padding built in, while hanging from the right side of his brown vest was a golden chain with several gold and silver religious symbols dangling from it. His upper face was covered by the shadow from his wide-brim black hat, long light brown hair spread over his shoulders. But for anyone who cared to look under the hat, bright lit blue eyes shined like stars, almost pulsing.

And in those eyes was purpose. His quarry was here, though where in this place known as Castle Dracula was the question. No doubt, the person he hunted was making haste to preform whatever unholy ritual was needed to resurrect the devil known as Vlad Tepes; Dracula. And since the man in black had seen to the death of that horrible being once already, he was not all that anxious to face him again.

"Mister Renfield!" he cried. It gave away all pretense of stealth, but it was perhaps better to draw his prey out to him. Certainly, it would save him the trouble of searching this entire crumbling ruin. "We need to talk!"

There was a shuffling sound from above. Turning, the man raised his guns, ears able to hear the faintest noise. And then, he caught the low breathing, the sound of a man's heartbeat. Renfield was here, no question about it, and he sounded nervous. "I promise that if you surrender now, I will grant you mercy."

"And what of the Master!" came the hoarse reply. It came from the upper levels, definitely, and if the owner of that voice kept talking, it would be no problem to track down where he was hiding. "He will grant no such mercy if I fail him now!"

Yes, Renfield's master. That was without a doubt the core problem of this situation. "Mister Renfield," he continued, now holstering his weapons. "Your master must not be allowed to walk this earth again. That's why I killed him four decades ago."

A crass snort, and a laugh. "Yes," the voice hissed. "You know all about killing in the name of God, don't you, Van Helsing!"

"So he has heard," the man muttered. Sometimes, he wondered if having his massive reputation was indeed worth it. In some places, it was a boon, when people heard his name and looked to him with admiration, respect. But in others, it was a less than desirable response; hate, fear, and the desire to arrest him, in the few cases like Ireland and France.

But all in all, the reputation was well earned, or at least, the parts that were true. Gabriel Van Helsing was many things, but a murderer was not one of them. And if he could take R.M Renfield in alive, it might do enough to ease the trouble he felt over his work, even this long after understanding himself and his own nature.

There was something else now besides Renfield, up there in the higher floors of the castle. Not alive, for Van Helsing could hear no breath or heartbeat. Yet, it was a familiar presence, one that seemed to be calling from decades ago. And then, he recognized it.

"Oh hell."

"You look well, Gabriel," came the guttural sound, barely distinguishable as words. "You have not aged a single day since we last met forty years ago."

He drew out a silver handle, readying it for possible use. "I suppose that Mister Renfield succeeded in at least bringing you back to this world," Van Helsing replied as he crept toward the stairs. Judging from the stench, the other person up there with Renfield was not exactly whole, no more than a rotting corpse that was only just animated enough for movement and speech. "Not the best of bodies, I presume."

"Yes," the voice said. Van Helsing could hear quite a bit of disappointment in that voice with regards to Renfield. "Little more than a zombie for now, but soon, it will not be so."

Quiet as a breath, he rose up the stairs, eyes looking out for any movement while his ears trained themselves on Renfield's heartbeat. "I'm sure that Velkan would love to see you now," he remarked, walking up to the second floor and coming about to see his quarry. "Nothing more than a normal vampire, without all your powers and your invincibility."

Standing there, backs turned toward him, were Roland Mendal Renfield, formerly a solicitor of Hawkins and Harker in London, and a tall figure who was shrouded by a black cloak. Renfield spun around and hissed at the man known as Van Helsing, exposing his glistening vampiric canines. The other figure only laughed, calmly turning to reveal his decrepit flesh, the face pocked with holes and rotting muscle structure. But it was without a doubt Dracula, or at least, some semblance of him brought back from Hell.

"So it's true then," Gabriel muttered while stepping toward the two. "You have been revived in some capacity."

The corpse nodded. "So sad that Alucard did not return with me," he replied, pulling back his cloak to reveal the rest of his corrupted body. Like his face, the rest of Dracula's skin was falling apart, oozing with puss and other such wretched fluids. Exposed by the lack of skin, the muscles and bones of his fingers were bared to view, evidence of his very incomplete form. "But then again, _he_ was allowed rest."

Van Helsing nodded. He would have to time this right, but if he did it, he could eliminate this pale shadow of his once greatest foe, then move to capture Renfield. He was already touched by the vampire's blood, no question about that, but perhaps there was still time to save him from becoming one of the undead. "I must ask," Gabriel began, trying to distract Dracula. "Just how was it that you came about returning to this world? Adrian's blood destroyed you, Vlad."

The corpse chuckled. A large piece of rotted flesh fell to the ground, along with a couple of teeth. "You'd be surprised at whom the distraught of mankind will turn to," he said, now taking a step toward Van Helsing. "Mister Renfield, for example. Already with a weak mind, so it didn't take much to draw him here to Walachia, where my gypsy servants worked to restore me to a physical form." He sighed now. "Sadly, the necromancy of the region is not what it used to be."

That could not be argued, though in Van Helsing's opinion, such was a good thing. "You know what I intend to do," he said to Dracula. "The question is, how much of a fight can Mister Renfield put up once you're back in Hell?"

The handle slid out a silver pike end, and with a grunt, Van Helsing flung it directly into Dracula's heart. The rotting vampire stared in horror, then looked from the stake to his foe, eyes unable to understand how he was defeated so easily. "One day," he hissed. "I will face you again!"

He crumbled, unholy life extinguished while Renfield hurried to escape. Van Helsing took his chance and gave chase, running up another set of stairs that led higher into the castle. Renfield's attempt to escape had been a bit of a surprise; Gabriel had expected him to be released from Dracula's hold the minute the vampire was dead again. It seemed that this time, it was going to take more work to destroy the count's reach into the mortal world.

As soon as he reached the next floor, Van Helsing was faced with what appeared to be a group of Szgany gypsy warriors, who all stood in defense of Renfield. "I was wondering when I'd get to you people," he muttered, now drawing out a handle piece that looked to be about a foot-and-a-half long. He flicked a switch, the clockwork mechanisms inside releasing a set of sections that transformed the handle into a quarterstaff. The gypsies stepped back, not sure of how to handle this well-armed foe. That was indeed the reaction Gabriel was expecting.

They charged at him, swords and knives in hand, but bringing up his own quarterstaff, Van Helsing proved he was more than a match for such numbers. A swift swing brought one end of the staff slamming into the chest of a gypsy, while a back thrust and tilt brought it crashing into the head of another when Gabriel spun around. Now spinning the pipe over his head, Van Helsing lashed out to crack a third Szgany across the temple, kicking back with his foot at the fourth before spinning on his heel and slamming his open palm into the man's chest. As the fifth gypsy ran at him, sword ready to strike, the man in black dropped down just as the blade was swung, bringing his leg up while he rose up again, and smashed his knee right into the gypsy's crotch. Van Helsing quickly cracked the man in the back of the neck with his elbow, knocking him face down on the floor.

A tap of the switch caused the quarterstaff to retract into passive form, and Van Helsing turned around, coat billowing behind him with the sharp movement. He stepped over the bodies of the fallen gypsies, taking care not to step on them. Renfield was nowhere to be seen for the moment, but Van Helsing could hear his heartbeat. He was close.

"I would suggest that you submit to the mercy of the Templar!" he called out. Hoping that some part of Renfield would listen to reason. "You are a troubled man, I'm sure they will understand and aid your rehabilitation!"

"A thousand plagues on you and your Templar!" the hoarse voice replied defiantly. Gabriel's ears could track it to the upper levels of the castle. He quickly ascended the stairs, right hand on the handle of one of his guns. He hoped it wouldn't come to killing Renfield, but if there was no other choice...

Well, at least God would understand, even if the Order didn't.

Van Helsing reached the top of the castle, looking out now to see the city below that stretched out toward the valley. There was no time to take advantage of the view, however. Renfield was still on the loose, and so long as that maniac was under Dracula's influence, it was possible that the count could be resurrected again. Doubtlessly, dispatching Dracula once more would not be so simple next time.

So much rubble here at the top of the castle, so many places for Renfield to hide. It bothered Van Helsing that so far, this man infected by vampire blood had surprised him several times. Before, in Sighisoara, he had eluded Van Helsing through sheer luck of departure. But here in Poenari, Renfield had proved to be ingeniously cunning, in spite of his insanity.

Someone leapt out from behind a large pile of debris, slamming into Van Helsing and knocking him to the ground. He vaulted back to his feet, drawing out his guns and trying to see his foe so that he could disable him. Renfield was proving to be one hell of a nuisance, that was for sure, and even with Dracula's death, he still was not released from the effects of the vampire's blood. Knowing how situations like this went, he probably wasn't going to be taking Renfield back alive.

"Richelieu's gonn'a hate me for this," he muttered.

Holstering one of his guns and pulling a small device from his coat, Van Helsing skillfully twisted the top piece, mixing the clear fluid in the catch with the blackened cold magma in the lower part. He rolled it along the ground before diving into the stairwell, and as a brilliant flare of light burst out, he could hear a scream of pain. That was his signal.

He rose back up from the stairwell, drawing both guns and catching glimpse of the staggering figure just as the last traces of light from the sun flare died. Renfield was stumbling about blindly, holding his eyes. No doubt, the flare was enough to blind any living human, but to one infected by the undead curse, it was bound to effect more damage.

"I warned you to surrender before," he said, walking over toward the ghoul. "Yield now, and the Order can help you recover your sanity."

Renfield hissed, turning toward Van Helsing as he lowered his hands. His eyes were blackened from the powerful surge of light, his skin burned as well. "I am no lunatic in a mad fit," he said, acting as if, despite the lose of his vision, he could still see. "I am a sane man, who has lost his soul!"

He charged toward Gabriel, hands reaching out to grab him, but Van Helsing quickly stepped aside, dropped to one knee, and brought his arm right smashing into Renfield's chest. The ghoul hit the ground, yelling angrily while he scrambled away and regained his footing. Again he charged, this time lashing at Van Helsing and forcing him to step back toward the edge of the roof.

There was a laugh from Renfield, one that sounded like it wasn't quite coming from him. "Death is not always the ending," he said, in a voice not his own. Now it was clear why it had been so easy to destroy Dracula's body; he had possessed Renfield's. "But for you, Gabriel, it will be."

"So sorry to disappoint you then," Van Helsing replied just as Renfield rushed at him. He dove aside, sending Renfield flying off the edge of the tower and to the ground below, where he crashed with a sickening _crunch_. Gabriel sighed with relief, as now, he could no longer sense the presence of the count. But, he had lost Renfield, something he'd actually been trying to avoid. "_Requiem sachem patchi,_" he whispered, then made his way down the stairs to depart. There wasn't much chance of collecting Renfield's remains, for they already were quickly decomposing. It looked like the undead taint in him had also brought on the quick destruction of his body. The cardinal was not going to be happy with this. But, Van Helsing was used to not pleasing the cardinal, be it Jinette forty years ago, or Richelieu in the present.

His black stallion was still waiting for him in the city. Van Helsing sighed and swung his leg up while pulling himself onto the horse. Perhaps the poor soul who had been Roland Renfield would rest, but there was no resting for the man named Gabriel Van Helsing. It was back to Rome, where a new assignment was already awaiting him, no doubt. But he still had one stop to make before going back.

* * *

"I can't express how much it means for you to stop by."

Gabriel nodded to his host, walking alongside her as they headed into the large library of Corvinus Manor. "Anna, after forty years, I still cannot forget what your family did for the world, and for me."

The woman who, almost four decades ago, was once the fifteen-year-old Lady Anastasia Corvinus, now stood before Van Helsing as Anna Renard, fifty-three years old, yet physically she looked to not have aged since hitting her mid-twenties. No doubt, one of the few positive aftereffects of having been touched by Dracula's blood. She was older, wiser, just as beautiful, and now the loving mother of four children and a devoted wife.

Speaking of her parental duties, the youngest member of the family was sitting in the library, reading a book with Velkan while Van Helsing and Anna walked in. "Even though you did more for us than we did for you," she replied, glancing to Velkan. If Anna had aged very well due to Dracula's blood, then Velkan hadn't aged a day since that terrible battle. Owing to his own _lycan_ heritage, Velkan Valerious was just as youthful and physically fit as he had been all those years ago, despite being sixty-four years of age. Truly, the blood of the ancient werewolves in his veins was a grand gift of the moon.

Noticing the arrivals, Velkan smiled and prodded his youngest niece to stand up while he as well rose from his seat. "Van Helsing," he said, holding his hand out to his old friend. "It's been too long since you paid us a visit."

"Five years," Gabriel add while shaking Velkan's hand. He glanced to the little girl who stood beside Velkan, then smiled and knelt down slightly to come more at eye level with her. "And I don't remember you being so big last time."

The child was obviously nervous, he could see that. "Maria, say hello to Unce Gabriel," Anna intoned. She chuckled faintly when she heard her daughter gulped. "She's a bit shy, just like her brother."

"It's alright," Gabriel replied, standing up and patting the child on the head. "Probably just the usual reaction I get from people." He watched as the girl hid behind Velkan, but she was smiling at him. "I'm afraid I can't stay long though, Rome will want me back as soon as possible, so that I can inform them about what happened with Renfield." He glanced to Velkan, his eyes saying that there was news which such a young child was better off now know. The _lycan_ nodded and led the girl out, leaving Van Helsing and Anna in private.

She could pick up that something was wrong. "What happened?" she asked. "I heard rumors about some cult of undead worshipers, but-"

"We came very close," he said quickly, answering before she could ask the question. "Dracula was put into a very rotted body, barely able to hold him, and he was able to possess Renfield." Van Helsing saw the fear in Anna's eyes. It was warranted, but thankfully, it could be put to rest. "He was destroyed when Renfield was killed, though we got lucky this time. I thought the _lycan_ tribes were going to keep an eye on the Szgany gypsies."

Sighing as she walked over to the large window of the library, Anna looked out at the late-afternoon sun. "The _lycans_ have been kept more than busy with an outbreak of lupus that spread through Vaseria, so they haven't been able to keep watch as much as they'd like." She paused, now smiling as she walked over to the wall which bore a large oil-painting of a map. It was a view of all Walachia, and Van Helsing remembered this portrait all too well. It had been the doorway to Dracula's lost fortress four decades ago, the end of his search for his identity.

Anna pulled something from one of the shelves which had been set up nearby. As she walked back to Van Helsing, he could see that she was holding a long wooden case, about four-and-a-half feet in length and a foot in width, just big enough to hold a sword. "Velkan and I agreed that this should go to you."

As she opened the case, Van Helsing was struck by the urge to decline. Inside was a sword made of pure silver, solid gold gilded into the blade and hilt in an intricate design. A shining emerald topped the pommel, the entire weapon glittering in the glow of the recently installed electrical lighting. "Oh no," he whispered, knowing how much this blade meant to Anna. "I can't, this is-"

"Adrian would want you to have it," she insisted. There, once more, was that smile he could not refuse. Anna seemed to have inherited that talent of her ancestors. "And I'm sure that as well, Matthias would agree. It belongs with you now."

He sighed. If it had been Velkan, he might have been able to refuse, but Anna still had that charm which destroyed all ability to deny her request. No doubt about it, she was the relative of Adrian Tepes. "I know how much he meant to you," Gabriel finally said as he reluctantly accepted the case and sword. "This is all you have left of him."

There was a nod, but it was one that told she understood how Van Helsing felt about her gift. "Juste doesn't quite understand, and the children never would. So, we agreed that it should go to you." There was a spark of amusement in Anna's eyes now. "Who knows? Perhaps one day, you'll have a child of your own to pass your legacy on to."

That thought was amusing. "I don't count on it," Van Helsing replied. "But who knows? I just might, and then I'll be hoping that the Almighty doesn't get on my case about it."

Anna smiled, and Van Helsing could see that Adrian had been right about her. She looked amazingly like Elisabetha Corvinus, virtually her exact twin, right down to her sea-blue eyes. It was no wonder Adrian had been so attached to this woman when she was a child, and he did envy Juste Renard for having won her heart. "Well, I should be going," he at last said. "I'd love to stay for dinner and remind Juste of my standing promise, but the cardinal will have my neck if I delay too long, and I'm sure Velkan will fill in for me."

The reluctance to see him go was very evident in Anna's eyes, but she knew he had his responsibilities, and so, she nodded. She gave him a hug, then kissed him lightly on the cheek. "You're always welcome here," she said, leading him to the stairs. "Gabriel very much loves spending time with you."

"He best," Van Helsing quipped, smiling at the mention of his namesake. "I have high expectations of that boy, considering you named him after me and made me his godfather."

She nodded. "Adrian also has dreams of being just like his 'uncle', dashing, heroic, and selfless." Again, there was that glint of pride on Anna's face. Apparently, Van Helsing surmised, such traits ran in the family, if not the name alone. But then, something else shined in the woman's eyes. "And Annette is quite fond of you." When Van Helsing blinked and glanced to her, Anna nodded, letting him know it wasn't a joke. "She's taken with you, Gabriel. I do my best to make sure she has no illusions about it, but still, I think you should take some pride in being her first infatuation."

He gulped, not knowing what to say. Then again, sticking with the truth usually worked, so, why not now? "She is a lovely girl," he replied, trying not to let the thought of a young lady of royal descent having a crush on him get to his nerves. "Just as lovely as her mother, but...what would the cardinal say?"

Anna laughed. She had heard stories about Van Helsing's view on the men who were generally in charge of him and his abilities. She could remember all the times he'd ranted about Jinette, and having met the man once about thirty years ago, she could understand why he hated anyone who wore the robes of a cardinal. "You're no man of the cloth," she said, nudging him in the side. "That's for sure. But, it probably is the best for now. Just don't make her wait too long."

Now she was starting to play Mother Matchmaker a little too much. "I'll try and visit more often," he said at last as they reached the front door. "Give Annette my regards, and for God's sake, don't let her run off to Rome trying to find me. The last thing I need is a nineteen-year-old girl showing up at Saint Peter's and asking for me to marry her."


	4. Chapter 2

_**Rome, Italy**_

Thundering across the open square of the Piazza San Pletro, the black stallion did not slow nor halt until it reached the steps of Saint Peter's Basilica. Its rider dismounted, handing the reigns off to the waiting friar, then briskly made his way up the steps and into the church. Even now, within, the morning services were being conducted, which meant that he would either have to wait a while, or go around through the back. The desire to get things over with won out, and Gabriel Van Helsing made his way into an empty hallway, where he saw what he was looking for. 

He stepped over to the large statue of Michael, examining it carefully, since he hadn't been required to use this entrance in a while. But if he recalled right, the switch was somewhere... 

There. Turning the sword, Gabriel stepped back and watched as the section of wall behind the statue slid open to reveal a staircase. He took a moment to turn the sword back into place, then stepped through the doorway before the wall slid into position again. As he descended the stairs, he could hear the work being down below in the caverns under the basilica. Metal being pounded, the occasional shouting of orders; it felt like home again. 

Now, reaching the end of the stairwell, Van Helsing stepped into the massive armory of the Templar Order. Not much had changed in forty years in terms of efficiency, though the methods and ways of keeping that efficiency had. Progression was ever so present here, with the Templar always striving to be on the cutting edge of the war against evil. 

Now he walked through the bustling work place of the Templar's agents, making his way toward the cardinal's office here in the caverns. With a soft knock, he waited. When there was no reply, however, Van Helsing knocked again, this time much more pronounced. 

"Enter!" came the annoyed reply from within. Grinning, Gabriel opened the door and stepped into the office of Cardinal Richelieu. He always waited for that exact way of giving permission to enter, because if the cardinals were in a pleasant mood, it meant that he wasn't going to be. 

He took off his hat and nodded to the man clad in red robes who sat at the oak desk. "Afternoon, Cardinal. You'll be happy to know that Renfield has been taken care of, and Dracula's return was a complete failure, no thanks to my own efforts." 

With an indignant glare, Cardinal Richelieu narrowed one eye at Van Helsing. With a well kept short beard and his once black hair graying all over, he was the archetype image of a man of the Church. He rose from his seat, not that much shorter than Van Helsing, but his aura of presence made up for the difference in height, or so Richelieu would have liked. "Pride, Van Helsing, is one of the Seven Sins," he stated sharply. "Particularly pride in one's self for that which he is obligated to do." 

Yes, definitely a perfect replacement for Jinette in almost every way. "Considering that you have no place to be lecturing a being such as me on pride," Van Helsing replied, reminding the cardinal once again of the vast difference between them, "I'd think you'd have given up by now." 

The cardinal snorted. If he had been in a pleasant mood before, he certainly wasn't now. All the better, because if Gabriel had to be in a bad mood at the moment, so did Richelieu. "I still try to comprehend how a soldier of Heaven-" 

"Formerly of Heaven," Gabriel corrected. 

Richelieu ignored the interruption. "-can go brazenly about, indulging in acts that are the vices of mortal man. I'm surprised that you haven't left Nephilim spawn about wherever you go." 

"Now that is having a big lack of faith," Van Helsing snapped. He'd been through these kinds of verbal bouts with Richelieu before, notably ever since he had been placed in charge of the Templar ten years ago after Jinette had passed away. And to be honest with himself, Van Helsing actually did miss old Jinette. At least he had, under the guise of dislike, understood Gabriel's burden, and could sympathized. Richelieu, however, had never been forced with those responsibilities before his tenure with the Templar had began, and even now still had always passed it off to others. In fact, the minute Richelieu had found out Van Helsing's divine origins, he'd made it clear that there would be no rest for the Archangel of Judgement, so long as he could help it, stating that angelic warriors had no use for human needs such as rest and nourishment. 

That, of course, hadn't gone over well at all with Van Helsing. If his verbal battles with Jinette were a sight to behold, then the conflicts he'd endured with Richelieu were the stuff of legends. Even after ten years, he still didn't understand that Van Helsing was not fully restored to the status he'd once held so long ago in Heaven. He was unkillable, true, and he did not age, but he could be _hurt_, and his mortal form _did_ require the basic needs of mortal men, such as rest, food, and time to recover. Notably on the last point, since, even though he could not be killed, Van Helsing could be injured so much that his form went into a death-like state to recover. The last time it had happened, he'd be caught in the center of an explosion that tore half his skin and muscles off, and it had taken him a week to completely regenerate his body and recoup before he could go back after his target. It had almost ruined his perfect record, but, he'd learned to live with such events. 

Richelieu, however, was a different matter. 

"I'll have you know," Gabriel continued while pulling off his gloves, "that as of yet, I have not had such relations with a woman, and as of the foreseeable future, I don't count on it." He sighed, giving the cardinal a long glare. "I'm kept far too busy to have the time." 

Annoyingly enough, Richelieu smiled. "Then my work is a success," he stated, walking around his desk and past Van Helsing to leave his office. "You are an Archangel, you have no need of mortal vices and desires." 

"I hardly call basic food and rest a vice," Gabriel growled as he followed the cardinal back into the armory. "I may be an angel, but my body is mortal. I can be exhausted, I can be starved, and most importantly..." He paused a moment while Richelieu spun about to face him, now giving him a look of displeasure. "I _can_ be hurt. Jinette understood that well, so why in your decade of service in the Order can't you?" 

For a moment, Richelieu said nothing. His face was conflicted, to be sure, and he couldn't quite think of how to rebuke Van Helsing's words. "If I did not have the understanding," he at last responded. "Then why was it that His Holiness placed me in charge of the Templar?" 

"Because Pius couldn't find anyone else in the area who would take the job?" Gabriel retorted. He allowed himself a smile, because now, the cardinal could not find any way to counter the accusation. "Face it, you were the only one who wanted the position, and in my opinion, that makes you the worst choice. Sadly, there was no one else." 

The cardinal hissed at his divine companion. "Be that as it may," came his loathing words. "May I remind you that I still am in charge here, and until that changes, you will abide my decisions, is that clear?" 

A grin informed Richelieu that Gabriel could really care less, and the man then took his chance to walk away from the cardinal. Small a victory it was, but it was still a victory. "As clear as that empty space between your ears," he called back, leaving the cardinal behind as he headed into the depths of the armory. He glanced back to sure that Richelieu wasn't following him, then made his way toward one particular area of the cavern. He was looking for someone in particular, and if his hunch was correct... 

A loud _bang_ went off, and Van Helsing smiled when he heard the chorus of shouts that were berating the source of that noise. "Carl," he muttered as he saw the man in goggles who was furiously apologizing to several people. "Still working on a way to blow up the planet?" 

Turning, the goggled man grunted the moment he saw Van Helsing. "I should have known you'd be back so soon," he said, pulling off his goggles and slipping a pair of glasses on. Almost forty years older from when he'd first had his taste of the field, and Carlson Seward was still as sharp witted as ever. His hair was now a dusty gray, a few age lines on his face, and he had put on quite a few pounds since the original mission in Tirgoviste, but he had proven to stand to test of time. Now, he looked very much like Abraham Van Helsing, and was much so the late professor's successor. He'd even acquired his degrees and now was _Professor_ Seward. Yet, even after all those years, he was still the same old Carl. 

"How did the incursion with Mister Renfield go?" he asked, setting his goggles on a table and walking over to where a large pile of devices and weapons rested. "I would hope there was enough left to identify him by." 

Yes, Carl was older and wiser, but still the smart-mouthed genius he was back then. "Well, he fell from the battlements of a six-story castle," Gabriel replied while setting his own gloves and hat on the table. "How much do you think was left?" 

There was a look of disappointment in Carl's eyes. "I would have expected him to be in pieces, it seems I overestimated you this time." He shrugged, then gestured for Van Helsing to follow him. "I assume that this time you came back with most of your equipment intact." 

"You assume right," Gabriel replied, pulling out the retractable quarterstaff and throwing it to Seward. "Not one lock up when I hit the switch, looks like you worked all the bugs out." 

Carl grinned. It was nice when he actually got his inventions back in one piece. Lately, he'd had such luck, unlike the old days when he was lucky if he even got the remains of half the devices he sent with Van Helsing into the field. These days, Gabriel had been keeping good care of his weapons, which was something that made their designer quite happy. "Glad to hear it. By the way, how is Anna? I presume you dropped by to give her a visit." 

"Anna's doing well," he replied. His hand, reaching into his coat, brushed against the handle of Adrian's sword. For a moment, Van Helsing considered withdrawing it and leaving it here, but his instincts told him to keep it on his body. "Her boys are trying to be just like us." 

"God forbid your namesake do so," Seward cracked while walking toward what was his office here in the Templar. He ushered Van Helsing in, then shut the door, locking it to make sure that they were not interrupted by Richelieu. Like Van Helsing, Carl could not stand the cardinal one bit. He sighed then and walked over to a large filing cabinet, opening a drawer to pull out a thick folder. "I know you just got back," he continued, walking over and sitting down. "But, we do have a problem." 

The folder now found itself on Carl's desk. Van Helsing glanced to his old friend quizingly, then picked up the file and opened it to glance over notes and maps of what appeared to be Egypt. "Not the Sun-Disk cult again," he muttered, raising his eyes to look at Carl. 

"I only wish it were." Seward gestured for Van Helsing to keep reading. "Hatnofer would be a walk in the park compared to this mess we're facing." His expression went dark for a moment. "Gabriel, it's Hamunaptra." 

The archangel halted, now staring at Carl with shock. "The City of the Dead?" he said, unable to believe it. "You've got to be joking. It's well guarded, no one has been in that city since-" 

"Since a garrison from the French Foreign Legion found their way there three years ago," Carl finished. He could see the surprise on Van Helsing's face, and nodded, knowing that it was warranted. "We got word that someone may have found the map leading there. Our contact in Cairo warned us that there might be a chance the city could be found, so, it's probably best to send you." Suddenly, Carl grinned. Van Helsing wasn't sure whether it was from sadistic amusement, or genuine pleasure. "You're to do more a security job than actually go about with the usual 'blow away anything that moves' style of mission. God knows you could use the vacation time." 

Security job. That meant more than likely, he'd get a chance to relax. Now he understood while Carl was the one giving the assignment here; he was undermining Richelieu's authority. "So no chance of actual battle?" 

"Oh, there's always that chance," Carl replied. "Particularly when you are involved." Again, he smiled. "But, considering your record, it hopefully won't come down to facing anything too nasty. Richelieu wants to send his 'new recruits', but since with something like this, there's a chance of trouble..." 

Yes, the cardinal's personal recruits, whom he tended to give all the easy assignments so that he had an excuse to elevate quickly them through the ranks. Just about every one of them was a major kiss-up to Richelieu, particularly that one man with the eyepatch. No wonder Carl was making sure Van Helsing got on this mission first. Sending someone with little to no experience with large scale conflicts into a situation that had the chance of real trouble was a surefire recipe for disaster. 

He quickly nodded and glanced into the folder again. While reading the file, he noticed something that caught his eye. "Imhotep?" he whispered, having a flash in his mind, a fragment of memory. He'd met this man in the past, no doubt of it. But when before this ancient Egyptian had been buried was the question. Van Helsing frowned. If he knew the man who was the focal point of keeping an eye on Hamunaptra, then he had to take the mission. It would not only ensure that things didn't go wrong, but he would find more of his past that he still had not recalled. 

"Best get you the gear you'll need," Carl remarked while getting up from his seat and heading for the door. "I suggest that you keep that file on you, just to make sure Richelieu doesn't get any bright ideas." 

Van Helsing nodded and followed as Carl unlocked and opened the office door. Now heading back into the depths of the armory, the two men walked past the forges and testing spaces. Gabriel still remembered when this was Carl's primary job here at the Templar, working in creating the cutting edge of weapons technology, when he wasn't ranting about his brother. But, even with the rising in position, Carl still did his best to stay where he felt most at home; building the best weapons, and causing explosions. 

"I've been working of a few things for you that might catch your fancy," he said while stepping over to his familiar old work space. He hefted up a large bag, set it on the table, then undid the buckles and ties and rolled it open to reveal the firearms and weapons that were held inside. Van Helsing's eyes were staring in envy, something Carl much expected whenever showing off much of his work. "This," he continued, pulling out a stocky rifle device that had a crackling sphere piece on the stock, "is a telluric bolt rifle. In essence, it's a lightning gun, allowing you to fire electric charges at your target and give them one nasty shock." 

Van Helsing grasped the rifle and aimed it, testing the grip and how it felt. A bit heavy, but for something so radical a weapon, it came as no surprise. "Good for catching them alive, I'd imagine," he remarked while handing the rifle back to Carl. 

A shrug while he slipped the bolt rifle back into its holders in the bag. "Yes, though I don't count much on you needing a live capture on this mission." Now lifting up what looked to be a metal arm guard, Carl slipped it on his own wrist and gripped the palm piece tightly, then pressed something on the grip. Instantly, a metal blade shot out about a foot and a half. Carl noticed the smile on Van Helsing's face, then pressed the button again to retract the blade. "Handy for close quarters," he said while taking the guard piece off and sliding it back into the bag. "Most everything else is normal weapons with a lot of modifications. Extra ammunition capacity, heat sinks, added parts for better accuracy..." 

"The usual upgrades," Gabriel quipped, rolling the bag back up and locking it. "It'll go nice with my other one." Grinning, he picked the bag up and slung it over his shoulder before heading off. Carl was quick to follow, because he wasn't quite finished yet. 

"By the way," he began, now walking alongside his old friend. "You do intend to take a more usable close combat weapon. As much as the wrist blade will help, it's only good for a quick attack, not extended combat." 

His left hand slipped into his coat, now at last drawing out the Corvinus sword. "I'm prepared for that," Gabriel replied, then slipped the blade back into his coat. "Anna and Velkan decided to give me Adrian's sword, and who was I to refuse her?" He headed up the stairwell, his eyes catching sight of Richelieu talking to one of his favorite lackies. The faster he got out of here, the better. "I still need to gather some extra cloths, can't go walking around the desert like this." 

Carl nodded, but there was also a resound sigh. Van Helsing paused at the entrance to the basilica, turning to face his aged friend. Something was wrong. "I really wish I could go out there with you," he said at last, confirming Gabriel's suspicions. "I miss the field now, being stuck here all the time." Again, he sighed. "But, I'm no Abraham Van Helsing, now am I?" 

Gabriel gave a weak smile. Carl had no idea how wrong he was in that statement. "He always spoke about you taking over for him," he said, patting Carl on the back. "Personally, I think you exceeded his expectations. He may have treated me like a son, but you are his heir to the throne, Carl." He chuckled, now bringing up what had always struck him as amusing. "In fact, you even look a bit like him." 

Seward looked into Van Helsing's eyes, then smiled. His friend was right, the professor always had driven him on like he was being prepared to take over. Granted, he'd like to have heard old Abraham say it himself, but maybe it was for the best he hadn't. If Carl had known, he might not have been so determined. Maybe that old rivalry he'd held against Gabriel had been a good thing after all. "Flattery won't do you any good here," he at last said, but he was more uplifted now. "You best get going, before Richelieu figures out that I went over his little red satin cap." 

Gabriel nodded, opening the secret door while Carl headed back down into the caverns. He quickly stepped out and shut the wall, now heading down the hall and into the main chamber of the church. Morning services had ended, he noticed as he headed for the main doors. Somehow, this place, which once had brought him comfort forty years ago, now held little for him. Certainly, the Gregorian chants brought little comfort, ever since he'd discovered who and what he was four decades prior. Sometimes, Van Helsing wondered how he had ever found a sense of peace here. As of late, he felt nothing here, a sense of emptiness, separation. Carl was about the only thing left here that brought him any sense of pleasure. 

He walked across the square toward the Vatican Palace. More a collection of connection buildings than an actual single structure, the palace represented numerous points in Italy's history. Within were thousands of rooms, including the residence of Pope Pius XI himself and offices for much of the Church's hierarchy. That was not counting in the Vatican library, numerous museums, archives, and some sections with purposes he only guessed at. 

And in one part of that collection of buildings were his own quarters. Van Helsing briskly walked up the stairs and entered the complex, noting that, even if it was a bit early still, people were scurrying about. Most managed to be looking elsewhere as he passed by, few even meeting his gaze as he strode down the marble floor. No doubt, they feared him, for more reasons than one. Certainly, his position as the greatest agent of the Templar made him infamous within the walls of the Vatican, and the revelation of his angelic nature had only served to bolster that notoriety. 

But perhaps the reputation that was the main source of his social exile went beyond his infamous name. If anything, these people wanted to avoid associating with a man who was, in essence, the Vatican's trash collector. Particularly when he was cleaning up _their_ trash at times. 

The professor had once told him that people feared what they did not understand, and since not many understood him, it was no wonder they feared him. Sadly, it went beyond fear, so perhaps it was no surprise that in the last four decades, Gabriel Van Helsing had become increasingly distant from those who were supposedly his compatriots. 

Reaching his quarters, Gabriel quickly opened the door and walked inside. Making sure that it was locked behind him, Van Helsing set down the weapon bag, then pulled another one from the now open closet. His instincts told him that, contrary to Carl's belief, there was going to be trouble on this mission, trouble that was going to well meet the reputation he had built up over the decades. If he'd learned anything, Gabriel knew that it was better to be over-prepared than under. 


	5. Chapter 3

_**Giza Port, Cairo**_

Pulling up near the port road, the taxi came to a halt, letting out its single passenger, who was quick to pay the fare and gather his bags. After three long days of travel, going mostly by plane from Rome into Egypt and then taking a taxi, he had arrived in Cairo. And for that swiftness, Gabriel Van Helsing was thankful.

The port along the Nile River was bustling, no doubt preparing for the departure of the nearby river boat. People were boarding, departing, and some even loading on animals. Gabriel sighed as he began heading for the boat, then grunted when he accidentally ran into someone else. "Sorry," he said as he brushed himself off. "My fault."

"Don't worry about it," the other man replied, his accent clearly American. For a moment, Van Helsing could swear there was something familiar about him. Brown hair, dark blue eyes, and a square set jaw. The direction he had been walking in gave the suggestion that he was as well headed on the river boat, and there was a tan brown bag slung over his shoulder, very similar to the two that Gabriel carried. "Heading down the river?"

He nodded. "Yourself as well, I assume," Gabriel said, now walking alongside this new acquaintance. "Just got in for a bit of an archeological expedition." Pausing, he held out his hand. "Sorry, forgot my other manners. I'm Gabriel Van Helsing."

"Rick O'Connell," the man replied as they shook hands, now giving Gabriel an odd look. "Van Helsing?" he inquired. "As in Abraham Van Helsing, Bram Stoker's Dracula and all that?"

It never failed to get a chuckle from Gabriel. Leave it to that Irishman to have made the old professor famous. "Yes, actually. Abraham was my father, he was an acquaintance of Mister Stoker's when he was writing his infamous book." _And left out quite a few details,_ he added inwardly. Oh, true, the professor had been careful about what he had told the playwright, but did Bram Stoker have to change everything so much? His book had read more like the events surrounding Count Orlock than Dracula himself. Such was the way things went, though, and perhaps it had been for the better.

Up ahead, he could see a man with a red _fez_ hat shouting orders to a few Arab workers. If his suspicions were right, that man was probably preparing to search for Hamunaptra. Judging from the conversations his inhuman hearing picked up, his presumption was right. Gabriel made a mental note to keep an eye on that man and anyone who seemed to be working with him. "What brings you out here?" he asked of Rick, glancing to the American for a moment. "Trying to cut your place in history finding some lost city like Hamunaptra?"

Rick had the urge to halt in his tracks the moment he'd heard those words. "How did," he muttered, not quite sure if he could believe what had been said by Van Helsing. "What makes you think I'm looking for Hamunaptra?"

There was a smile on Gabriel's face. _Very familiar indeed_, he reflected for a moment. It was then he gestured to all the things bing packed onto the boat. "Well, judging from all that, there's a sizable dig being prepared. Now, I'm not sure if they're looking for it, but Hamunaptra is certainly one of the biggest troves of legend and treasure out here in Egypt. Also..." Now, he shrugged. "Lucky guess, and the fact I'm headed there myself."

"You're looking for Hamunaptra?"

Again, Gabriel nodded. No sense keeping the secret from his new companion, being that Rick felt like someone who could be trusted. There wasn't greed in the man's eyes when discussing the City of the Dead, so, he wasn't in it for the money, that was for sure. "History and finding the secrets of the past are something of my forte, Mister O'Connell. Hamunaptra represents one of the lost world's greatest challenges."

O'Connell narrowed his eyes a bit. Something didn't feel right, like Van Helsing wasn't being quite all that truthful. "And I suppose that the fact the city is supposed to be cursed doesn't get to you at all?"

Gabriel shifted his gaze a bit. Looked like some things did hang around for people to hear about after all. "I'm not too keen on all edicts of the ancient gods," he replied calmly. "But I still don't intend to screw around with anything that looks like it should be left well enough alone." A thought crossed his mind then. "What kind of team do you have, if you don't mind my asking?"

For a moment, Rick was silent, until he noticed the people he was himself looking for. "Not too big," he replied. "Myself and two others."

"Mind adding me to that?"

With a confused expression, Rick turned to look at Gabriel. Something was odd about this man named Van Helsing, but he wasn't quite sure what it was. There was also something very familiar about his presence. "You don't have your own team?"

Again, Van Helsing shrugged as they waded through the crowd. "Normally," he stated. "I work alone. But for this, perhaps it would be best if I had some friends to count on." Again, he smiled, now with a shine in his brightly lit eyes. "If you don't mind the help, that is."

For a moment, Rick had the idea to decline. But there was a growing sense that he shouldn't refuse the offer. Certainly, this man knew a bit about what he was planning to look for, and there was a profound feeling of trustworthiness about him. Definitely didn't come across as the type who would backstab you at the first chance. And they could use the extra pair of hands. "All right," he finally answered, giving Gabriel a grin. "Just don't expect to get an easy trip though."

"Mister O'Connell," he said, readjusting the straps of his bags. "I've never had an easy job in all my years of doing this."

As they walked toward a pair moving down the pier, one a woman with brown hair that was held up in a bun under her hat, the other a taller man wearing an explorer's helmet, Gabriel had to resist the urge to laugh when he heard their conversation. They were talking about Rick, as he caught the name "O'Connell" being mentioned, and most of the comments from the woman were not too flattering.

"...filthy, rude, a complete scoundrel. I don't like him one bit."

"Anyone I know?" O'Connell asked and he and Van Helsing walked over. The woman turned and looked at him, her eyes going wide with surprise. Judging from how she was looking Rick over to make sure it was him, he obviously had been less presentable the last time they'd met. This was going to be an interesting assignment.

She was still looking him over in surprise when she finally spoke. "Oh...hello."

"Who's your friend?"

With a glance to Van Helsing, Rick gave a shrug. "Gabriel Van Helsing, says he wants to tag along with us."

"A pleasure to meet you," Gabriel stated as he took off his hat and bowed slightly to the woman. Again, like with O'Connell, there was something familiar about her, but it seemed to draw from farther back. Rick merely bore a resemblance to someone he must have known, but this English woman, she seemed more tied to his ancient past than a mere resemblence. "Mister O'Connell informs me that you're all headed to Hamunaptra."

"I did not," Rick snapped indignantly. "You're the one who assumed it."

Again, Gabriel grinned. "Am I wrong?" he asked, now slipping his hat back on his head. He missed his usual black pants and Duster coat, wearing instead a light whitish beige pair of pants and a gray coat over his brown vest. It was odd for him, a contrast to how he preferred to dress. But, he was not willing to be separated from his hat, desert heat or not. "I said I was going there myself, and you pretty much confirmed your own heading, so I'm not lying."

The British man stifled a laugh. It was enough for Van Helsing to keep his smile, because he wasn't being feared here, but accepted, a rare event. Plus, he was having one interesting banter with his new acquaintances. "Van Helsing, is it?" the man said as he held out his hand. "I'm Jonathan Carnahan, and this is my sister, Evy."

"Short for Evelyn, I presume," Van Helsing added while again giving a slight bow. "Again, a pleasure, madame. I look forward to being part of this team."

Jonathan nodded, as if remembering something. "Yes, and what a smashing day for an adventure, eh, O'Connell?" he said, patting Rick on the side of his arm.

There was a nod, but all the same, Rick checked his coat pockets, warily looking at Jonathan. "Yeah, smashing," he muttered, finding that everything was still in there.

"Oh, I would never steal from a partner," the British man replied, keeping a cheerful smile on his face. "Partner."

Gabriel looked back and forth between the two men. "Did I miss something?" he asked. "Because if there's already trouble in the ranks..."

"No, just a little misunderstanding when we first met," Rick replied. His tone suggested there was more to the story, and Van Helsing made a mental note to ask about it later. "That reminds me," he continued, now looking to Carnahan. "No hard feelings about the..." He paused and made the gesture of punching Jonathan in the face.

"Oh no!" the man exclaimed, waving his hands as if warding something away. "Not at all, happens all the times."

_Somehow,_ Van Helsing inwardly remarked while keeping his eyes on Jonathan. _I find that easily to believe._ He'd have to watch this one carefully, if the indications he was getting were correct.

"Mister O'Connell," Evelyn said, now bringing herself into the conversation. "Can you look me in the eye and guarantee me that all this isn't some sort of a...a flimflam? Because if it is, I'm warning you-"

"You're warning _me?_" Rick replied, looking at Evelyn with amusement. "Let me put it this way; my whole damn garrison believed in this so much, that without orders, they marched halfway across Libya and into Egypt to find that city." He paused a moment so that Evelyn could get the idea so far. "And when we got there, all we found was sand and blood." Again, he paused. "Here, let me get your bags."

Impressive display it was, Gabriel had to admit. Even as Rick picked up Evelyn's bags and carried them up the ramp, she was watching in surprise. Indeed, this was going to be one interesting mission.

"Yes, you're right," Jonathan intoned, stepping over to stand beside his sister. "Filthy, rude, a complete scoundrel. Nothing there to like at all."

As Evelyn glanced back at her brother with one of those looks which told of her amusement, a short portly man with a _fez_ hat and about a month's worth of a beard walked over. "Bright good morning to all," he said, causing quite a negative reaction from Evelyn.

"Oh no," she groaned in dismay. "What are you doing here?"

As the man walked up the ramp, he glanced back at the three still on the pier. "I'm here to protect my investment," he replied. "Thank you very much."

_Investment?_ Now this was a man Gabriel knew he had to watch. "Might I ask-"

"Gad Hassan," Jonathan answered. It was obvious he wasn't too happy about this turn of events either. "Warden of the Cairo Prison. Smelly man, was going to hang our Mister O'Connell if Evelyn hadn't intervened."

Yes, no wonder he referred to this expedition as an 'investment'. Evelyn must have been forced to promise a profit from the dig. He would have to keep an eye on this Warden Hassan.

* * *

Night had descended, and while the party deck was alive with activity, Gabriel used his time studying up on the problem at hand. According to the file he'd brought with him, Hamunaptra was indeed a cursed city, home to a horrible creature who had been beset by the worst of all the ancient hexes of Egypt. His offense had been grave, not only daring to enter the City of the Dead, but using the black Book of the Dead in an attempt to resurrect his lover. It was also suspected that he'd had something to do with Pharaoh Seti's death.

But for some reason, something else tugged in Gabriel's mind, like a memory he'd forgotten. Granted, he was used to it now, what with the trickles of his life as the Angel of Judgement slowly returning, but this was a major part of his past, he knew it. Knowing his luck, the lost memory would reveal itself at the last possible moment. Still, it was something.

The sound of revery was starting to tug at him now. For a moment, Gabriel considered ignoring it, then finally smiled and grabbed his weapons bags. He had to go through and prep his equipment anyway, might as well go out and enjoy himself while doing it.

Outside on the party deck, he could see the passengers who were enjoying themselves out in the refreshing river air. Some people were having a light meal, some were sharing a few drinks, and at least one table, there was a poker game going on. Notably, there at that game was Jonathan. It was probably wise to check up on the man, to make sure he wasn't causing any problems.

A door opened behind the table, and out walked O'Connell, his own bag slung over his shoulder. It looked like he'd gotten the same idea as Van Helsing. Perhaps joining with Rick's team hadn't been such a bad idea after all. They seemed to think alike, after all.

"O'Connell, just in time," Jonathan intoned as Rick stepped over to the table. "Sit down, we could use another player."

_A fool's game, to throw away his fortunes,_ that voice in the back of Van Helsing's mind whispered. He inwardly laughed, since his own luck at such games of chance had been incredibly good. All the same though, it would be interesting to find out who was doing what on this boat.

"Sorry, but I only gamble with my life, never my money."

As Van Helsing walked over to the game table, he got a better look at Jonathan's fellow players. One man was the stereotype image of an American cowboy, slack-jawed with messy light brown hair and brown eyes, complete with tarnished cowhide vest and a bandana around his neck. The one directly across from Carnahan was more of the city-born gun for hire, wearing a casual business suit, yet still displaying that feeling of lethal ability. It was probably due to his rather short crop haircut. The last man, however, looked almost like the typical museum archeologist, rather well dressed with a pair of glasses. Quite an interesting mix to be sure.

"Never?" the man across from Jonathan replied as he began dealing the cards. "What if I was to bet you five hundred dollars that says we get to Hamunaptra before you?"

_What!_ Van Helsing quickly made his way over as quickly as possibly the moment he'd heard those words. If these people were involved as well, there was quite a bit of trouble to behold if everything went wrong. "You're looking for Hamunaptra?" he said as he made his presence known.

The cowboy nodded and grinned while looking at his cards. "Damn straight we are."

"And who says we are?" Rick inquired.

All three men pointed at Jonathan while answering in unison. "He does."

The man gulped as he could feel both Van Helsing and O'Connell glaring at him. Perhaps making mention of that little fact wasn't such a good thing. "Well, I..uh..."

"So how 'bout it?" the man with the short hair said, glancing to Rick in anticipation. "Do we have a bet?"

Indecision was in O'Connell's eyes, but then, he smiled. "All right, you're on."

"What makes you so confident, sir?"

The question came from a man sitting at a nearby table, where he was reading a red-cover book. Van Helsing recognized his as the man from the dock who had been shouting orders. No doubt, he was the leader of this other group looking for the lost city. "What makes you?" he asked, wondering how this man had such confidence.

"Well, we got us a man who's actually been there," the cowboy said. There was a trace of smugness in his voice, and it gave Gabriel a feeling of suspicion. The only people who had been out to the lost city and back were either those who watched over it, or someone from the garrison three years ago. Rick, by logical conclusion, was one of the latter, while the former would never lead someone out there. Which meant that there were other survivors.

"What a coincidence, because O'Connell-"

He took his chance to hit Jonathan in the back of the head with his bag, getting the man to shut his mouth about that and change the subject. He saw the thanks on Rick's face, and knew that he had been about to so the same thing. It seemed they really did think alike. "Gentlemen," Van Helsing remarked while moving to go around the table. "We have ourselves a wager." He smiled, then held Jonathan by the shoulder, digging in hard to give him a warning. "Evening, Mister Carnahan."

"Good night," he replied weakly while Rick and Van Helsing wandered off.

For a moment as they stepped around the side of the ship, Rick looked at Gabriel with an expression of amusement. "You know, I was going to shut him up, but thanks."

"Men with loose lips need a tight reminder to keep their mouths shut," he replied. Grinning, Gabriel let Rick know that the feeling about Carnahan was mutual. "I gather that he also has some loose fingers, let's just hope he keeps those out of trouble as well." He was silent for a moment, looking out at the stars in the sky. Once, he'd flown up there, among the birds and the clouds, but now, he had to be careful, lest the public discover his nature as a divinity. "So, what did happen out at Hamunaptra, anyway?"

Again, O'Connell had that look of surprise, though it wasn't so great this time as it had been back at Giza Port. "We got ambushed by the Tuaregs, couldn't pull out, so it was pretty much a slaughter." Rick frowned, not sure right now what to make of his new companion. He felt trustworthy, but he seemed so secretive at the same time, like an enigma. "I only survived because something scared them off right when a bunch of them were about to kill me."

_They knew what lies under the sands of that damned city,_ Gabriel thought. But it was better not to let on that he knew exactly what was going on. "The curse of the city, I'd imagine," he said. "I don't put a lot of stock in the ways of the old world, but some things, I have to agree, are best left alone." He tilted his head, sure he heard something in the water. It sounded like a rowboat, very quiet, but there was something else as well. The other sound was almost like someone swimming under the water.

Up ahead, seated at a lone table, was Evelyn, reading a book and seemingly oblivious to everything around her. There was a person who he couldn't figure out. Most of the people searching for the lost city obviously had some vested interest in fortunes, but Evelyn Carnahan didn't give that impression. Perhaps, for once, he was looking at someone with a genuine desire for knowledge, an understanding of the times long ago. Perhaps she was someone he could have a real discussion with. Plus, it would help kill the time while he checked his equipment.

Both of his bags landed next to the table, startling Evelyn with the sudden thud. "Sorry," he apologized quickly. He glanced to Rick, then moved his bags to make room for the other man to have a place to sit once he found a chair. "Didn't mean to scare you."

Evelyn looked at Van Helsing for a moment, then to O'Connell. "The only thing that scares me are his manners," she replied in a tone that was almost scolding.

"Still angry about that kiss, huh?" Rick asked while setting his own bag on the table and pulling off his coat.

Gabriel raised a brow. _A kiss?_ he thought while observing his companions. Now this was getting interesting. Just what had happened prior to the port in Giza?

She snorted. "If you call that a kiss," Evelyn replied scathingly.

There was an expression of indignation on O'Connell's face as he quickly undid the straps of his bag and threw it open to reveal the guns and belts of ammunition inside. It didn't compare to his own cache of weapons, but Gabriel had to admit, he was impressed, and judging from the look on Evelyn's face, so was she.

"Did I miss something?" she asked as she looked over the collection of weapons. "Are-are we going into battle?"

Rick took the chance to pull over a seat and take a place at the head of the table. He pulled a six-shooter revolver from the bag, opening the chamber and loading it before locking it shut and slipping into the right holster on the gun harness that was around his shoulders. "Lady, there's something out there," he said while repeating the action with a second gun and slipping it into the left holster. "Something underneath that sand."

"That goes without saying," Van Helsing muttered. When O'Connell looked to him for an explanation, he shrugged. "There's quite a bit out there, obviously. Besides the lost city itself, the stories say that the wealth of ancient Egypt lies under the sands of Hamunaptra." He paused a moment, shifting in his seat. "Might I ask what you think is out there, Mister O'Connell?"

He frowned for a moment. "In a word," he said, now wiping a shotgun that had been strapped into the bag along the width. "Evil." Rick sighed, setting the gun down for a moment. "The Bedouin and the Tuaregs believe that Hamunaptra is cursed. After what happened there the last time, I'm almost inclined to agree."

A scoff from Evelyn signaled her thoughts on that matter; she didn't buy it one bit. "I don't believe in all those fairy tales and hokum, but..." She hesitated, now smiling. "I do believe that one of the most famous books in history is buried out there, the Book of Amun-Ra." Again, Evelyn paused for a moment before continuing. "It contains all the rituals and secret incantations of the ancient kingdom. It's what first got me interested in Egyptology as a child, actually, it's why I came out here. Sort of a life's pursuit."

Rick glanced at her while he started locking the shotgun into ready form. "And the fact that they say it's made of pure gold makes no never mind to you," he said flippantly.

"You know your history."

It was his turn to scoff. "I know my treasure," Rick replied, now turning the stock piece of the shotgun and locking it into place. He set it back on the table, looking to Van Helsing now. "What brings you out here anyway? You said that finding secrets is a hobby of yours, but other than that-"

"I have to correct you there," he said quickly, leaning back slightly in his seat. "It's not a hobby for me, it's a job." Gabriel frowned, his ears still picking up a sloshing of water that definitely was not the boat. "I've seen quite a few unexplainable things in my life, which is why I'm a bit careful when treading into places like Hamunaptra." A shrug, and he sighed, looking out at the passing Nile River. "But rest assured, it's not treasure or riches I'm looking for out there." For a moment, he was silent. Then, he glanced to Rick. "By the way, she mentioned something about a kiss. Mind telling me what that's about?"

As he was loading an automatic, Rick snorted and pulled back the slide. "It was at Cairo Prison. I was about to be hanged, it seemed liked a good idea at the time."

There was an indignant growl as Evelyn slammed her book shut and stormed off. Gabriel raised a brow while Rick only turned and locked a clip into his gun while watching the woman walk away. "What?" he asked. "What did I say?"

He smiled, shaking his head. "That, my friend, was something you don't say to a woman." Van Helsing reached over to take a look at one of O'Connell's firearms, then paused when they both heard a noise from the crates aside the way they had come from. Rick slid his auto into his belt, walked over with Van Helsing behind him, then reached around to grab the person hiding there and pull him out.

"Ah, what a surprise!" the ratty looking man exclaimed, obviously taken more by surprise than he wanted to reveal. "My friend, you're alive! I was so very, very worried."

Rick wasn't so joyed to see the weasely Hungarian. "Well if it ain't my little buddy Beni," he hissed. A pause as he seemed to be in thought. "I think I'll kill you now," he finished, whipping out his gun and pointing it at Beni's head. Van Helsing almost intervened, but there was something peculiar about this man, something that made him wait to see what happened.

"Wait, think of my children!"

"You don't have any children!"

He gave one of those puppy-dog eyed looks, or as much as an attempt at one that he could muster. "Someday I might," Beni replied.

Rick angrily shook the man. "Shut up!" he hissed, keeping his gun aimed at Beni's face. "So you're the one who's leading the Americans...I might have known." He paused a moment. "So what's the scam, Beni? You take them out into the middle of the desert, and then leave 'em to _rot?_"

"Unfortunately, no," Beni stated. He had ceased struggling at this point, being that if O'Connell didn't catch him again, his solidly built companion would. "These Americans are smart. They pay me only half now, and half when I get them back to Cairo, so this time I must go all the way."

Yes, just as weasely as he looked. But still, something else seemed off to Van Helsing about this Beni, something about his looks, and a bit of how he sounded. His face was familiar, but the small mustache and the short hair seemed to be throwing him off, it seemed. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but...have we met somewhere before? You look familiar."

Beni shook his head. He'd never met this man in his life, or at least, he _hoped_ he hadn't. But, he did get that odd feeling he'd perhaps seen him somewhere before. "I don't think so," he quickly muttered, wishing he could just run away now, like he always did in times of trouble. He looked to Rick, who finally relaxed and stowed away his gun. "You never believed in Hamunaptra, O'Connell. Why are you going back?"

With a sigh, Rick gestured to the far corner, where Evelyn was petting a camel. "See that lady?" he asked. "She saved my neck."

That answered how Rick and Evelyn had become associated. Just what had Rick been in Cairo Prison for though, that was the other part of the question. It probably wasn't worth it to ask, because Gabriel got the feeling he didn't want to know the answer.

That and Beni was making one of those stupid comments you don't say to a man who had just been about to blow your head open. "You always did have more balls than brains."

He laughed, Rick slowly joining as if it was a joke. "Funny," he remarked, sorely tempted to just shoot the weasel and get it over with. But that wouldn't do to well for his own well-being. So, instead, he just patted Beni on the back, led him to the railing, then grabbed him by the front of his shirt. "Good-bye, Beni," he stated just before throwing him over the side and into the river. Beni hit with a resound splash, and he could be heard coughing and fighting to keep about the water.

Already, his interest in his new ally was piqued. "Might I ask-"

"Trust me," Rick quickly said, intercepting the question before it could finish. "You don't want to know." He moved to sit back down and resume his preparations, then stopped when his eyes caught sight of water tracks leading from the railing to around the corner. With an expression of confusion, Rick looked back over the railing, but Beni was still in the river, splashing loudly as he paddled toward shore. "Did you..."

Van Helsing had already opened up one of his own bags and was strapping the metal arm guard to his left forearm and wrist. He noticed as Rick stared at the amount of guns, ammunition, and other weapons that were stored in the slots. "That's just part of my collection," he said, pulling out two silver automatics and loading the large clips. He slid them into the holsters on the back of his belt, pulled off his coat to show that there were no sleeves to the shirt under his vest, then grabbed a pair of leg harnesses that quickly were strapped onto his calves. Two more automatics were withdrawn from the cache, loaded and holstered with catches to hold them in.

Rick took a look at the back harness while Van Helsing grabbed a few more pieces of equipment and saw the rather ingeniously designed ammo holder which now was being loaded with automatic clips. "Holy moley," he whispered as his eyes now wandered to the other bag which no doubt held just as much as Van Helsing's first. Being prepared was one thing, but this was beyond anything he'd thought possible. "Who the hell are you?"

As he hooked the last two clips onto his back harness, Gabriel grinned and rolled the bag back up before fastening all the straps and buckles. "Think of me as the insurance policy from God." He paused for a moment before heading toward the corner and following the track. "He certainly knows that this trip is going to need one."


	6. Chapter 4

Her clothes were on a hanger as she paced about, now dressed in a sleeveless nightgown while reading a book. "George Bembridge," Evelyn read aloud. "In eighteen..." She paused, almost in a trance for a moment. "In eighteen sixty-five was..." Again, she stopped in mid-sentence, holding her hanger now and simply dropping it and her clothes to the floor just as she was about to hang it up. "Was...oh for heaven's sake, girl!" Evelyn hissed, almost reprimanding herself. "It wasn't that good a kiss anyway!" With a slap to the porthole window to open it, she walked to the sink and set her book down, now picking up a comb and brushing her hair.

There was a muffled clatter as the book fell to the ground. Evelyn sighed, set down her comb, and bent over to pick up the book. When she got back up and looked in the mirror, she saw that someone was standing behind her, dressed in black with a repugnant face.

He grabbed her by the neck just as she gasped, pushing Evelyn against the wall and holding up his right arm to show he had no hand there, but a serrated hook instead, which was now touching her cheek. "Where is the map?" he hissed.

"Map?" Evelyn replied. She glanced to the table. "It-it's there."

"And the key," he continued, pushing against her throat a bit more tightly. "Where is the key?"

Now she had no answer. "The key, the key...what key?"

Someone was coming toward the door. "Evelyn!" That was O'Connell, which meant that not far behind was...

"Get your hand off of her!"

Van Helsing, right on cue.

The black clad man growled and spun Evelyn about while readjusting his grip on her throat and holding the point of his hook at her neck now. Both O'Connell and Van Helsing drew their guns to aim, not firing for fear of hitting her, but it was Gabriel who noticed as the flame on the table perched candle flickered toward the window. He shifted his aim just as another black clad man appeared at the porthole, a pair of revolvers in his hands. His own silver automatics firing to life, Van Helsing let off a pair of rounds that slammed into the window assailant and send him dropping from view. The second burst from his guns, however, hit the wall-mounted lamp and caused it to fall from its place to ignite the couch on fire.

The hooked man glanced over, distracted enough for Evelyn to grab the candle from the table and thrust back to hit him in the eye. He let go, allowing her to run over to O'Connell, who was now joining Van Helsing in firing at the window as two more gunmen appeared. Rick noticed she was safe, then nodded. "Let's go!"

Just as they got out the door, Evelyn came to a halt, then spun back around to make a dash for the room. "The map, the map! I forgot the ma-"

"Relax," Rick intoned, grabbing her by the wrist and calmly pulling her along while he began reloading his revolvers. He gestured then to his own head. "I'm the map, it's all up here."

"Oh, that's comforting."

* * *

He held his eye, wincing in pain, but it was then that the hooked man noticed a small octagonal metal object laying on the ground. He recognized it immediately, now moving to take possession. "The key," he whispered.

"Evy!"

Just as he was about to grab the object, the hooked man was rammed from behind, sent stumbling forward and into the burning couch, where his own robes ignited almost instantly. He screamed out from the heat and pain, turning madly in vain attempt to put out the flames.

Jonathan, looking about, saw the small object and reached to grab it, but pulled away when the hooked man slapped his hook against it and took the chance to grab it. With a gasp, Jonathan wisely back away when the hook swung at him, and ran out the door and down the hall even as the burning man moved to give chase.

* * *

Outside on the main deck, it was chaos. The boat was lit ablaze, and several of the black clad men were only adding to that by throwing lit torches into the most highly flammable parts of the boat. Passengers scrambled to escape, the Arab workers quickly freeing the horses and camels while everyone was diving from the deck and into the river.

Amidst this havoc, the trio of Rick, Evelyn, and Gabriel came out of the hallway. Rick picked his weapons bag up from the ground and quickly passed it off to Evelyn. "Hold this," he said, now reloading his other revolver. Van Helsing grabbed his own bags, yet unlike O'Connell, was considerate enough to sling them crosswise over his own shoulders. While Rick was calmly loading the bullets into his gun, Van Helsing was firing his own weapons with little care to his ammunition. The chambers click as the last rounds fired, and he quickly ejected the empty magazines to the ground. Now reaching around to the back harness and locking a fresh clip in each gun from the bottom pair, he heard a _click_ and pulled down to free his weapons while the remaining magazines on each side slid down to be ready for the next reload.

The black clad men were returning fire, blowing holes in the wall and slowly aiming more toward O'Connell. He wasn't paying much attention, and so, Evelyn grabbed him and pulled him aside just as he finished loading his gun, saving him from the bullets which impacted into the wall right where his head had been. He hesitated a moment, then brushed her hand away and pulled out the revolver in his left side harness holster. "Ready?"

Van Helsing raised up his own automatics, the chambers snapping shut as the first round of each gun loaded. "Always."

Both men turned the corner, guns blazing as they fired at the black-clad attackers. Two of the assailants went down from where they were perched on the upper deck, Rick turning and firing at a third, who yelled out as the bullets tore through his body. Van Helsing was quickly to follow the move with a series of rounds that took out three more men, then, firing one more twin burst that brought down a seventh gunman, spun his revolvers about on his fingers and slipped them into the back holsters. "We have to get out of here now!" he exclaimed while keeping his eyes open for any more gunners.

Rick, as he took his weapons bag back, looked around for a moment. "Can you swim!" he asked of Evelyn.

"Of course I can!" she replied indignantly. "If the situation calls for it!"

He groaned, then, picking Evelyn up off her feet, held her over the railing. "Trust me," he said just as he dropped her. "It calls for it!"

Gabriel spun back around at that moment, a second too late to warn them. "O'Connell, no!" he cried just as Evelyn went splashing into the river. He growled and pulled the bags off from around his shoulders, then, reaching back, flung them hard toward land. Rick for a moment thought the man was insane, then stared in shock as he watched the unbelievable scene of those two bags, filled with heavy weapons, fly over the river and land somewhere on shore.

Considering the distance involved, no human man should have been able to preform that feat of strength. But before Rick could even question it, Gabriel was already leaping over the side, diving in after Evelyn. Now O'Connell realized that sound he'd heard after he'd dropped her in the river wasn't angry yells; it was screams of horror. Something else was down there! "Evelyn!" he cried, moving to follow, but was slammed back onto the deck as one of the black-clad men climbed up and caught him.

In the river water, Van Helsing dove down, his eyes unhindered by the dark water. He could see exactly what had grabbed Evelyn, his worried about this confirmed. It was large, about the size of a man, with a definite humanoid shape which was distorted by fish-like features. The woman was struggling against it, but unlike it and Van Helsing, she was running out of air and would drown.

He surged forward, backhanding the creature across the head with his arm-guard once he was close enough, then pushed Evelyn upwards, now the focus of the creature's attention. While Evelyn swam as hard as possible to escape, the creature started to go after her, but was halted when Van Helsing grabbed its webbed foot. Even under the water, he could hear the horrible scream from this fishman as it turned back to stare at him angrily. Exactly what he wanted.

The fishman was amazingly agile in the water, moving like, to it, it was but thin air. A hard swipe caught Gabriel across the face, the sharp scale-claws slashing his cheek. There was a glimmer of golden fluids from the cut as Van Helsing growled, then, to return the blow, brought his left leg up with a hard kneeing motion to the creature's gut. For a moment, it backed away, then savagely assaulted him. For every blow he delivered, it seemed as if this creature was able to give it back.

A swing caught him across the face, close to his eye this time as the creature hit the left side of his face. With a look of pure rage, Van Helsing triggered the blade of his arm-guard, then thrust into the creature's side to drive the blade in. It let out a roar of pain, and as he pulled the blade out, it pushed away and swam down into the depths of the river. Gabriel, if he was able at the moment, would have breathed with relief. Instead, he settled for swimming back for the surface, where he broke through the water and took in a deep breath to get real air back into his lungs. He didn't need the large amounts of oxygen, but it still felt a lot better all the same. Now, he just need to get to shore.

"_Wait here, I'll go get help!_"

His ears picked up traces of an exchange back on the boat. One was obviously O'Connell, and the other sounded like the portly man from the pier, Warden Hassan. It didn't take much to figure that Rick had left him standing on the deck and leapt into the water. A few seconds later, there was a yell as Hassan dove into the river. As sadistic as it was, Van Helsing could not find some humor in the situation. If it had been him in Rick's place, he probably would have done the same thing.

* * *

Across from where they came onshore, the quintette could hear a ruckus as the Americans and their group were gathering horses and pulling them from the river. Van Helsing winced as he could still feel the sting from his injuries, but thankfully, those cuts on his face were already rapidly healing. He still made sure, though, that there was no sign of the golden fluids which he had in place of human blood.

"We've lost everything!" Evelyn exclaimed as they walked onto the sandbar. "All our tools, our equipment...all my clothes..." She paused as she looked back and saw Gabriel walking out of the river. "And what in God's name was that thing! It was... hideous, and it tried to drown me!"

He nodded, cracking his neck while walking over to where his bags had landed. He could feel the stare of amazement from O'Connell, but right now, he had better things to worry about. "Trying to claim you as a mate was probably more like it," he replied. It was the most logical conclusion, from all the things that had been happening. "If it was trying to kill you, it would have done so more quickly than drowning you."

"_Hey!_"

The hoarse yell was coming from across the river. Van Helsing looked back and could see the havoc that was going on over there, and standing in the middle of it all was that weasely Hungarian, Beni. "Now what?" he muttered.

"_Hey, O'Connell!_" the man continued to scream out. Really, the way he was acting was almost childish, not at all the way a grown man his age should have been acting in this day and age. " Looks to me like I've got all the horses! "

"_Hey, Beni!_" Rick shouted back. Gabriel almost slapped his face in disappointment of how O'Connell was returning the immature gesture. "_Looks to me like you're on the wrong side of the river!_"

_He's even doing it with a sing-song tone of voice!_ the archangel inwardly exclaimed. Granted, Beni, who by now realized that O'Connell was right and started to swear his head off with a string of Hungarian vulgarities, was already starting to grate on his nerves. But this like of behavior was suited to children, not a pair of grown men. And the irony was that it fixed even more in Gabriel's head that Rick reminded him of someone from his past. Beni, however, he still couldn't figure out. Something just felt so familiar about him. Maybe it was the fact he was Hungarian, maybe it was that weasely attitude, but he just seemed to look so familiar, like they had met before.

It could wait. Right now, he just wanted to get into some dry clothes, then start on the way to Hamunaptra. The sooner they got going, the better, because once the sun got up and they hit the desert, it was going to be...

Something was missing. He looked around, then swore as he realized he'd left his hat behind on the boat. No doubt, it was burnt to a cinder now, so no point in going back for it, but he'd prized that hat. "Son of a bitch!"

"What?" Rick said as he looked back at Van Helsing. "What's wrong?"

"I left my hat back on the boat!" he replied. When his companions gave him an odd look, Gabriel sighed. "That hat was a gift from my father, I never went anywhere without it!"

Now they understood. O'Connell could only give a sympathetic nod as he sighed and picked up his weapons bag from where he had thrown it on the sandbar. "Sorry," he remarked. "I can only guess then what it meant to you."

As he sighed and picked up his bags, Van Helsing shook his head. "You have no idea," he whispered lowly. They was a silence from him as he looked toward the burning boat, then gave a quick and heartfelt salute to his last memento from his adoptive father. That hat had lasted him forty years, but he should have anticiapated the day that he'd lose it. "Sorry, dad," he whispered before following his companions. There was little time left to say good-bye to lost mementos, they had to get moving.

* * *

Mid-day, and the sun was high in the sky over the small desert village. The inhabitents went about their business, selling wares, herding animals, and dealing with the group of travelers who had made a stop to gather supplies and mounts. The latter of those objectives had turned into quite an interesting sight for Van Helsing.

"I only want _five!_" Jonathan yelled while he argued with the short little Arab man who they were trying to aquire a group of camels from. In the Englishman's opinion, he was being charged too much, and the Arab...well, he was jumping up angrily and refusing to lower the price. "Just five, not a whole bloody herd of them!"

"As much as I love the sound of you shooting your mouth off," Gabriel remarked when he decided to finally intervene. "Would you just pay the man already, and be done with it!"

Carnahan groaned and pulled out his wallet, withdrawing a large bundle of bills to pay the Arab. "I can't believe the price of these bloody flea bags," he spat while handing over the money to the short man. It didn't miss his attention with the Arab smiled and started going through the bills after handing off the reins. "Oh, yes. Very happy now, all good!"

With a snort, Rick took hold of a pair of reins. "You know, you probably could have got 'em for free," he remarked while leading the camels along. He noticed as Van Helsing took hold of the other three reins and sighed. "All you had to do was give him your sister."

Jonathan almost laughed at the suggestion. "Yes, awfully tempting, wasn't it?"

When he noticed Evelyn walk toward them, dressed in modest black robing, Rick found that he wasn't so fast to respond. "Yeah," he said faintly. "Awfully."

His eyes shifted back and forth between the two, and Gabriel inwardly laughed. He'd seen this enough times to know the signs. _Good to find someone discovering some possible romance around here,_ he thought. But, considering the need to get moving, he knew tha he'd best break up the moment. "Stunning as always," he said while walking over to Evelyn and giving a nod. "I'm sure that Mister O'Connell can agree."

"Huh?"

Yes, exactly as he'd predicted. "We should be heading out soon," Van Helsing replied to his dumbfounded American friend. Handing the reins to a white furred camel to Evelyn, he gave a light chuckle while he noticed that Rick still was speechless. _Most likely rethinking his words_, Van Helsing inwardly reflected as he and his companions gathered their newly purchased supplies and packed them onto the camels. Now came the hard part of the trip; crossing the vast deserts of the Sahara.

* * *

A yellow sea of sand as far as the eye could see, and the sun was barely moving to set in the west. It had been two hours since they had set out from the small village, with little more than Rick's memory to go one in their search for the lost city of Hamunaptra. And already, Jonathan was complain about the camels.

"I can't stand the creatures," he muttered while they all crossed over a sand dune. "They're rude, they smell bad, they spit..." Carnahan glanced back at that moment to see Warden Hassan spitting out something and taking a bite of the food in his free hand. The camels weren't the only ones who fit each and every one of those descriptives.

Evelyn just reached forward and scratched her camel behind the ears. "I think they're adorable," she intoned while the camel let out a sound that indicated its pleasure.

Van Helsing smiled while he patted his own mount on the side. Yes, camels had a few disagreeable personality problems, but so far, he and his ride had been getting along just fine. After a few moments, he winced as he heard a horrible sound, then realized that it was Warden Hassan making some attempt to sing. That man could not carry a tune at all. "Two days ride," he muttered to himself, hoping that he'd be able to make it that long before giving in to the urge to maul Hassan just to shut him up.

* * *

Nightfall. The moon was high in the sky, waxing against the light of the stars, and the five camel bound riders continued on through the desert. Evelyn had dozed off, her camel groaning while Rick quickly made a hushing sound for it to be quiet. At the same time, Jonathan looked back as he was woken up by Hassan's terribly loud snores. He sighed, then swatted the warden with the stick in his hand. Hassan grumbled something in Arabic while Jonathan was quick to look completely innocent, just incase the man woke up.

There was a grin on his face, and Van Helsing sighed. Maybe this mission wouldn't be so bad, and for once he'd have a chance to relax and actually take things easy. But, he just as quickly took that thought back, knowing that, regardless of the outset of an assignment, the universe would usually find some way to make things difficult for the Archangel of Judgement.

Speaking of things going wrong already... Gabriel perked up as he heard something off in the far distance, out on a hillside near the horizon. His inhuman vision could see a cluster of about half a dozen men on horse-back, looking down upon them carefully. He had a sneaking suspicion that he knew who they were, then felt a pang as he thought back to the boat and realized who _those_ men had most likely been. It looked like there would be someone who wanted some answers later, that as gong to be for sure.

* * *

"You snore!"

"I do not!"

Not even sunrise, and already those two were at it again. Van Helsing groaned at just how childish some of his traveling companions could be. He expected this kind of behavior from ten year olds, but not these men. Perhaps he shouldn't have so much faith in the maturity of humanity at large.

"Pass gas, maybe, but snore, never!"

Like that was any better.

Carnahan merely snorted in reply. "And then there was the drooling. Anyway, how would you know, you were fast asleep!"

Yes, mankind was hardly to be considered, by any stretch, mature enough in general. But, so long as they were making progress toward the city, he could deal with it, so long as it didn't get so annoying that he had to take action to get them to shut up. Sometimes, Gabriel wondered if it had been such a good idea to politely turn down going back to Heaven in favor of staying on Earth.

"Look sharp!" Rick called as they crossed over a dune. "We're getting close."

"Are you sure?" Evelyn asked, though the question was soon proven redundant as they saw what lay before them.

"Yep, I'm sure."

For miles, they could see skeletons, the remains of other travelers who tried and failed to find the City of the Dead. It was a sad testimony to Hamunaptra, to its attraction and its deadly price of failure. Disturbingly enough, it was also a fitting gate of sorts to the city; a field of death, with nothing but the scorpions as the lone thing moving around.

Rick's eyes wandered about, looking at the body. "I knew that guy," he muttered while pointing to one corpse, or what was left of it. Indeed, quite a few skeletal remains bore what was left of Legionnaire uniforms, not doubt from Rick's unit three years ago.

The sun was just barely beginning to peek over the horizon. O'Connell frowned then. It wouldn't be long now before they reached the city, and found whatever lay beneath the sands in wait for them.


End file.
